Going Under
by Marilyn Stabs
Summary: Will Turner suffers a pirate's initiation. WARNING: Non-con, slash, and violence! DO NOT read if easily squicked!


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Massive Warning to Readers: This story is not for the weak of heart, or those who are easily squicked. This story contains graphically described sexual acts and violence. It contains nonconsensual relationships (i.e. rape). It also contains homosexuality. Please, please, please DO NOT READ THIS STORY if any of those things bothers you, or if you are grossly underage. I can assume no responsibly if you do and are completely traumatized. All I can say is you have been warned.

BUT, if you are reading this and saying 'Noncon? Slash? So what?' then please do read on and leave me a comment. And if you like it, encourage your kinky friends to read it as well! This is my first PotC fic, as I have mostly dealt with Harry Potter before this. I hope you enjoy…

Lots of Love,

Marilyn

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Going Under

Will Turner is bent over his half drained mug of grog when Jack walks into the tavern. He sinks a bit lower and watches as the pirate swaggers over to a table, sits down among friends and proceeds to charm the serving wench who brings him his rum. Will looks down at his wrists and rubs the rope burns there that cut deep, raw rings into his flesh. He shudders, clasping his hands in front of him as if in prayer.

He bows his head and glances up from under strings of dirty hair that he longs to wash. He watches Jack smile- a disarming, honest expression laced with glittering gold teeth that used to reassure Will. Now it makes him sick to his stomach.

Will looks at the people Jack is sitting with. They are men from the crew- the new crew that he picked up before asking Will to join him on what he'd described as a 'pleasure cruise'. Will had agreed, postponing his wedding to Elizabeth a few months. And it had begun well enough. They relaxed and simply sailed wherever it was they desired to go.

But soon the crew grew restless. They thought this was mission. They thought there would be plundering involved. When Jack tried to explain the nature of their trip, they became enraged. They were like animals. They threatened to mutiny- to kill Jack _and_ Will.

Will notes that Jack has won the crew over. They are looking at him with respect and admiration now- and a slight sense of fear. 

Will reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold coin. He closes his hand over it, eyes burning with unshed tears. 

Yes, Jack has won over the crew. And all he had to sacrifice to them was Will…

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One week earlier: 

It was an unusually windy night. The sails had been pulled down and stored away in the bottom level of The Black Pearl. The rat lines rippled like waves in the gusts of wind. Will alone stood on the deck of the great ship, looking down at the foam topped, black waves that seemed to stretch out infinitely. The smell of salt was strong in the air, reminding Will of months ago, when he'd first set foot on a ship with only one daft pirate as his mate.

Jack. Will smiled as he thought of him. Though he'd at first had misgivings about him, he now felt he could trust the man with his very life. In many ways, he admired Jack. His spirit. His determination. His playfulness. The way when he smiled, Will knew he was in good hands. Put simply, Will loved Jack Sparrow. He loved him in ways he could never love Elizabeth.

As he was mussing, he began to notice that it had grown too quiet. He was immediately suspicious- the crew had been threatening mutiny for weeks now and Jack was growing increasingly anxious. Was it possible that they were up to something?

Feeling a prickling of apprehension, Will crossed the deck and opened the hatch that lead below to the crews quarters. He quickly dropped down into the dark passage way that lead to their room. As he walked through the darkness, he began to wish he'd brought a lantern of some sort. Or at least fetched Jack from whatever it was he was up to.

Voices drifted around him, low and conspiring. Again, Will had the sense that something wasn't right. He reached out into the thick blackness that surrounded him and pushed open the wooden door before him.

The crew were sitting up in their hammocks, leaning forward, talking close together. And in the middle, seated in the only chair, was Jack. He looked vaguely shocked to see Will standing there, and jumped to his feet.

"William," he said, offering a stilted grin. 

"What going on?" Will asked.

Jack turned and exchanged looks with the crew members. They all nodded solemnly, seeming to be urging him to do something.

"The crew and I were just discussing you, as it were," Jack explained slowly.

"Why, my I ask?"

Jack's black eyes sparkled darkly and he lowered his thick lashes, "They seem to think that you're not a proper pirate."

"Well, of course not. I mean, I'm not here to be committing crimes. This is a vacation," Will said, not at all reassured by the pained looked Jack was giving him, "Tell them, Jack. Tell them that this is a pleasure cruise."

"I have. Pity though, that's not how they feel about it. They've shared some…er…interesting stories of the sort of initiations they've done in the past. They feel it would only be proper to initiate you in this fashion."

"W…What do you mean 'initiation'?"

Jack continued, ignoring the question. 

"I've really tried my best to talk them out of this, but they say it's the only way. Look at me please, Will," he begged. His eyes were like black holes; Will was drawn in. Jack reached out, put his hand on Will's shoulder. "I'm doing this to save our lives," he whispered.

"What?"

Before his question could be answered, all the crew leapt out of their hammocks at once. Two large ones grabbed Will from behind, ripping his arms back. They kicked open the door and the others cheered as they began to drag him out of the room.

"Jack! Jack, what's going on! Jack, help!" Will screamed.

The crew moved around Jack like a tide, swallowing him up until he was invisible under the sea of men. They surrounded Will, gagging him the smell of sweat and grunge and rum. He was yanked roughly up the ladder to the deck, were he was drug across the wooden planks, still shrieking with terror.

They pulled him over to the main mast, drug him up by his hair and shoved him against it, smashing his face into it. His arms were wrapped around it's wide circumference and bound together with a bit of spare rope. One man drew out a dagger from his shoe and approached Will.

Will's eyes were wide and damp. His throat was dry from screaming Jack's name over and over. When the man took the knife and sliced open Will's breaches, he could do nothing but gasp hoarsely. His pants were ripped away along with his shirt. He was left naked, exposed, in only his boots. Tears of humiliation streamed down his cheeks.

Jack watched from a few feet away as the crew stripped naked the young boy and taunted him with their rough touch and bawdy comments. He could not turn his head away as they slapped open his legs with the blunt end of the whip that Jack had never dared use to discipline them. He didn't believe in abuse. Never had.

But there he stood, listening to Will sob his name over and over as the crew prodded and poked his naked body and did nothing. He simply turned off his mind, stopped experiencing it. He wasn't a part of it, he was only watching.

Only watching. 

The crew stopped their cruelty for a moment and turned collectively towards Jack.

"Cap'n Sparrow," said one, smiling viciously, "It's customary that the cap'n have the first go."

Jack nodded, barely registering this. He moved forward, shoving through the men, moving closer to Will. He felt the heat emanating from him first. As his hands caressed his shoulders, he felt how burning hot his skin was. And how soft- how bloody soft- like a girl. Like a good wench. 

That's all he was. A good whore. It was the only way Jack could think about it; it was the only way he could justify to himself the heinous act he was preparing to commit.

He was shocked to find himself already hard as he rubbed himself between Will's legs. His cock was throbbing in anticipation of being buried inside the boy. Jack reached down and unbuckled his pants, tugging them down and freeing his pulsating sex.

One hand traced down Will's back, following the curve down between his ass cheeks. He found his entrance, tight and warm. Will's body began to tremble spastically. He shook and shook like a ship run aground. Jack squeezed his eyes closed and leaned his face into Will's hair as he probed one finger inside of the boy.

Will seemed to collapse at that moment. His pride, his masculinity- it was all lost in that second. He shuddered against Jack's body. His sobs were desperate, heart broken, gut wrenching. Jack tried not to hear them. Oh God, did he try not to hear them. He did not want this for Will. But he had to do this. It was to save them both.

All around him, the crew had grown silent. One quick glance around him told him they were watching hungrily. They were truly beasts then. Inhuman. Disgusting creatures. Jack had never hated his own kind as strongly as he did in that one moment.

He moved in another finger, hearing Will choke on a sob. He tried his best to stretch the opening so that it wouldn't hurt so terribly when he entered him. So it wouldn't tear and bleed. 

Jack removed his fingers and poised his cock at Will's entrance. He slid his hands over Will's hips, arching them up. Then he pressed forwards, impaling Will's body with his own.

"No," Will cried. "No, please."

His entrance was tight and hot. Jack struggled to fit himself in, moving as slowly as possible and trying not to feel Will attempting to squirm away. He gripped Will's hips firmly and pulled them back, thrusting himself forward at the same time. Will screamed as Jack filled him to the hilt. Jack's face fell forward, resting in between Will's head and shoulder. He buried himself there, his cock penetrating deep within his friend. 

"I'm so sorry, Will," he whispered. "I'm so…"

But he couldn't finish. He didn't even deserve to apologize. He didn't deserve to beg for forgiveness. What he was doing was sick. It was unforgivable.

As he lifted his head, his cheek brushed Will's and one of Will's tears trickled onto Jack. As he pulled away and pulled out, the tear ran down his face, through his moustache and onto his lip. His tongue darted out and he tasted it, ingesting Will's pain.

Then he slammed forward again, and this time the crew cheered. The whooped and growled and called out as Jack rammed in and out of the young blacksmith's tender flesh until, exhausted, he spilled his hot seed inside him.

His member now flaccid, Jack tore himself out of Will's abused body. He pulled up his own pants, regaining some of his dignity. As he turned and walked through the crew, this time they parted for him, moving out of his way. They were looking at him with a new found respect. Well then, he'd gotten what he'd wanted then, hadn't he?

He turned to then and, displaying none of the anguish that he felt deep within himself, he nodded once for them to continue. He couldn't speak, for his own bile was choking him. All at once, the men were on Will again, surround him, beating around him like waves; drowning him.

Jack watched Will go under.

When it was over; when they had all had their turn at defiling the only thing honest and pure that their tainted hands would ever touch, they fell away like a dying storm . Will had slide down the mast, arms still tied in front of him, curled into a tiny ball. He was no longer crying. He wasn't doing anything at all but breathing.

Completing the ritual, Jack stepped forward once again. He rounded the mast to face Will, looking down at the bruised and bloody body of his friend.

He dropped a gold coin at Will's feet. It clanged and echoed far too loudly, reverberating across the sea, which had grown suddenly calm. Will did not look up.

"Welcome to the crew," Jack said.

Will shoves his empty mug away from him suddenly, still gripping the coin in his hand. It's burning now with his body heat, reflecting his inner state. As he rises from his table in the corner of the tavern, Jack looks up suddenly and catches his eye. Will looks away, unable to maintain such painful contact.

He moves quickly through the crowd of filthy seamen and wenches. He is nearly to the door when something seizes his arm suddenly and pulls him back.

Will burns at the contact and recoils. He can no longer stand anyone touching him. 

"William," says a familiar voice.

Will turns very slowly and faces Jack. They are very close; Will can feel the other man's breath on his face. For the last time, Will looks Jack straight in the eye.

"You were my best friend," Will says, "I respected you. I loved you."

Jack's eyes suddenly remind Will of the ocean; deep, fathomless.

Will reaches out and takes Jacks rough, tanned hand in his own. He squeezes it tightly once, then lets go and leaves the tavern, walking down the darkened street of the port alone.

When Jack opens his hand, he will find the gold coin within it; all he will ever have to remember William Turner by. 

-fini-


End file.
